


Death Has a Loving Voice

by ArcherHolt



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28876194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcherHolt/pseuds/ArcherHolt
Summary: Doc never asked to be a god of death. But when he's tasked to take the soul of a certain Bdoubleo, he finds that it may be harder than he previously thought...tw// Persona shipping.Please do not ship the IRL Hermits. They are real people with real families, spouses, and lives. This is merely for innocent fun.
Relationships: Bdoc - Relationship, Bdoubleo100 | Docm77, John | BDoubleO100/Steffen Mossner | Docm77
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	1. The Clock

**Author's Note:**

> Originally on Wattpad, but because of the coming purchase by the company that owns Webtoon, RPF works could be censored. IDK what RPF means but I know Hermitcraft can be considered it so yeah. I'm back on Ao3!

Death. A fate that men have long tried to avoid. Potions, spells, and magical stones have all been created to stop the clock from ticking, but its cold claws always have its way. That was the first lesson Doc learned on that fateful day. 

Each person has a clock attached to them, one whose ringing calls a lower god of death to take their soul. Some's clocks last a few years, some only a few hours, some whose clocks never start, and some whose clocks seem as if they will never ring. Doc was one of those who only lasted a few years. 

The day he was assigned a server to live on was his last. His name was read, his blood dripped onto the paper, and it was sealed. But as he drove to the portal on the day of his twentieth birthday to finally be a part of the server, a series of events led to his demise. A hailstorm, black ice on the highway, the drunk driver of a semi-truck... the last thing he remembered was a cold stinging feeling on his face and a painful heat around his right shoulder, and to top it all off, a guard rail hung through the windshield as sirens screamed all around him. 

And then, he heard it. The clock, still ticking as loud as ever, and a man as tall as a car is long standing over him with a smile. Doc glanced at the clock in front of him, its glass shattered and arms unmoving, but still the seconds hand jittered back and forth. 

"You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" the man's soft voice said. 

As the god-like figure stooped down to match Doc's height, he saw the eyes of black smoke that would haunt his days for a long time. 

"Only a few are like you," the god had said over and over again, "be grateful of your second beginning!"

His missing arm and half-torn face were impossible to get used to. To think that he was neither living nor dead and in the care of a god... he refused to believe it, praying every single night to wake up again on the morning of his twentieth birthday as if it were all some nightmare. 

It was no dream, but his life became a nightmare. He would be a servant of that god by fate.

He remembered the first soul he had taken, on a world that evolved as time went on. The look of fear on the young man's eyes as Doc stopped the clock's ringing, begging him why he'd do this and who he was before laying his head on his desk for the last time. He'd never forget those eyes, the music playing through the red and blue headphones that would be the last sound the young man heard. 

_Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock..._

That sound echoed through his head constantly, that of a thousand ever-ticking clocks whenever he stood over the map of the realm he had become a god of. 

And the man he had first met there turned out to be the highest of that realm. 

"You're too soft, 77," the man would scold, "pick yourself up!"

He learned many lessons with the god, who he soon learned was named Jamaerah. 

One of those lessons brought him to Evo once again, with Jamaerah in his smoke form by his side. The smell of the forest, the sound of spruce needles dancing to the ground, they all made things so beautiful- but that beauty didn't last very long. 

A deer pranced through the forest, stopping to take a bite of grass. Silence, and then...

A gunshot rang out into the sky, and as Doc opened his eyes, he saw the deer lying lifeless on the ground. His heart cried out for the creature, but no matter how he tried to look away, Jamaerah pushed him to keep his eyes on it. 

"Life is a fickle thing, 77. Every living thing will die someday," Jamaerah said, swooping to the deer and pulling its clock from the air, "and there's nothing that can stop it."

The god returned to Doc's side and hissed in his ear once more. 

"So you'd best get used to it if you want to stay alive." 

And get used to it he did. Soul after soul of animals and humans alike torn from their bodies and into Doc's hand to be given to Jamaerah. Over the years, as the scars from the car crash began to heal, Jamaerah began to order that he bring the clocks back as well. And so, he did just that. Every time he took a soul, he would bring both the soul and its clock to Jamaerah, who would combine the two and send him on his way. 

On the fourth anniversary of Doc's death, he awoke to a beautifully crafted arm laying on the edge of his bed. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and gently brought the arm into its lap. As he looked closer, he could see that it wasn't just any prosthetic, but one built with the very clocks and souls that he had taken. 

A note in a cryptic script that he had spent his free time learning was slipped in between the arm's fingers. He pushed himself forward, flipping the paper open with his only hand. 

_You've done well, 77. It is time that you have this freedom back. Put it on, and see what souls can do._

_\- Jamaerah_

Holding its wrist between his knees, Doc twisted himself to place the top of the arm on what remained of his shoulder. Immediately, ribbons of vibrant red light snaked from the prosthetic all around, sinking it seamlessly into his skin. Doc's jaw dropped as he moved his arm for the first time in four years. He ran it over the covers, feeling the texture of the fabric even with a metal arm. 

That wasn't the only gift from Jamaerah that day. Standing up, he saw a similar-looking object on the ground, the perfect size for his face. Doc's heart skipped a beat as he held it gingerly in his arms and gently placed it over his face. The same snaking light attached it to his face, and as the light faded once again, he found that he no longer had the blind spot in his vision. He closed his right eye, which had previously taken all of his vision, but he could still see perfectly fine. He was almost normal. 

Doc sighed, thanking the god that had given him so much, and opened the bedroom door, bumping straight into Jamaerah's leg. 

"77," Jamaerah cooed, "it's about time you take a human soul once more."


	2. Fatal Error

"A- a human soul?" Doc stuttered. 

It'd been so long since he'd done something like that. He found it easier with animals, since with humans, his emotions would often take over. Eventually, he became specialized in taking the souls of animals, which Jamaerah for some reason didn't mind. 

"Yes, 77, you heard me right. This one's clock is almost about to ring."

Jamaerah held up his hand, making a glassy sphere appear in front of him. As he lowered it to Doc's height, an image appeared inside. 

A man his age on the server he had been chosen to join stood at the top of a building, chatting and laughing with two others. The building had a chunk of its top blown off, still smoldering from what looked to be a recent explosion. The man wore a plain t-shirt, his ripped jeans accented by gold chains and a red headband tied his dark hair back. As he laughed, Doc's chest suddenly felt hollow. 

"He's my age, Ja-"

"And you were four years younger."

Doc gulped. The last time he'd taken a soul that young, it left a permanent image in his mind. 

"Tell me, 77, why do you pity him? Is it because he's from the world you would have been a part of had you survived?" 

"I- I just- it's been a long time, is all. I'll be fine, I won't let you down."

Jamaerah raised an eyebrow, but seemed pleased enough. 

"Good. It should be ringing in just a few seconds, but as long as you take his soul, that shouldn't matter. Remember, the clo-"

"Yeah, yeah, the clock can't be stopped, whatever. If his clock is ringing, he'll be unconscious, right? Not feeling any pain?" 

"That's right, 77. Now, go. Go before I send someone else to do it."

And before he knew it, he was being shuffled off into that room of the worlds, where he fell down into the one labeled _Hermitcraft._

\---

_Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock..._

Doc's pointed ears searched for the source of the sound like a cat as he finally came to. He stretched his arms, yawning and taking in the sunlight before finally realizing that he was not along. He yelped, jumping into the air and holding his mechanical arm defensively. 

"Seems like everyone's passing out around here, doesn't it?" a mustached man chuckled with a melancholy air. 

"Don't joke about that!" his shorter accomplice snapped, whacking his face with his oversized red sweater. 

"I- I need to go," Doc sputtered, "something I need to do-"

He was almost out of their view when he felt a tugging on his labcoat. Whipping around, he saw the shorter man looking at him pensively. 

"The hell do you want, man? Get off of me!"

"Aren't you that guy who died on the way to the portal?"

"Wh- what? No, I don't even know who that- it's not like- just leave me alone!" 

Doc's mechanical arm thrust backwards, hitting the man behind him harder than he'd meant to, but it didn't matter. There was a clock ringing somewhere in the mushroom-covered field, and he wouldn't stop until he found it. It'd be easier if he got it over quickly...

He half-jogged along the fields until he finally found roads, and one of them led straight to the ever-ringing clock. 

An ice shop right across from the building he'd seen in that sphere, that's where it was, where it had to be. His mind raced fast enough that he didn't even realize his hands were shaking. Carefully, he stepped into the shop and approached the unconscious man. Sure enough, it was him. 

He looked so peaceful in his slumber, unaware of what lie ahead. 

"Who are you?" a red-eyed man demanded. 

He's just a new guy, isn't he? But I swear I've seen your face before, just not... with _that,_ " the other man said, waving his hand to Doc's facial prosthetic. 

"Can he and I have a moment? Alone? There's something I need- something I need to ta- to give him." 

The two men glanced at each other, but eventually just shrugged and left the shop. As soon as the door shut, he knew what he had to do. Still, something held him back. The image of the blue-clad teenager he'd taken the life from flashed in his mind. He couldn't do it, but he couldn't stand the ringing, or the thought of letting him lie unconscious forever. 

"God help me," Doc sighed. 

His hand found his target's face, looking at his soft freckles and lightweight hair. He'd taken the souls of animals with ease, and humans with suffering, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to do it, even with the soul seeping out of the man's lips as it sensed Doc's presence. He took a deep breath. There was no choice. 

The clock appeared in front of him, the ticking more painful than ever. Doc grabbed onto it with a sigh and prepared to hit the stop. He closed his eyes, his finger hovering over the button. 

_Just get it over with, Doc._

_Three... two.... one..._

The door burst open, making Doc drop the clock in a panic. 

"Who the hell are you?" a fuming woman screamed, her blonde hair frazzled and grip on her sword unsteady.

"I'm no one..."

A gasp of breath came from behind him. Doc whipped around in a panic, expecting to see Jamaerah's furious gaze, but instead he was met with the man he was about to take the soul from staring up at him in confusion. 

"You... saved him?" she said breathlessly, dropping her blade. 

"I don't know, okay! I need to go..."

"No, no, you can't! You gotta tell me how you did that, he wasn't breathing or anything but his heart was still somewhat going, and now he's sitting up and looking fine-ish!"

Doc's green skin turned pale. Oh, he was in for it now... 

Another person pushed past the blonde woman and took off his sci-fi-esque helmet, showing a face full of scars. Doc winced just looking at them.

"You sure took your sweet time coming here, Doc," the man spoke, "even evading death itself, apparently."

The scarred man gave Doc a painful glare, but eventually let up.

"I need to go!" Doc snapped, dashing out of the door without another word. 

His mind spun around. The clock no longer rang, and the target had literally been a split second from death, and yet he had come back to life. If Jamaerah heard about this, he'd be more dead than he already was. 

He couldn't stay, not with what had just happened. Surely someone would find out, wouldn't they? But he couldn't return home either. 

It was Jamaerah or that scarred man, and he couldn't decide which was worse. 


	3. Dead and Alive

Doc stood with his hands on his knees and gasping for air by the edge of the mushroom island. Voices called the name he hadn't heard in so long, a guilt pulled him towards limbo, but fear kept him grounded on Hermitcraft. He had to choose. There was nowhere to run but the unrelenting sea. Jamaerah or the scarred man? Jamaerah? God, decisions were always difficult for him, but none were quite as bad as this. 

The voices were getting closer, and he could feel the anger of Jamaerah if he ever found out about this. He could just say he was dead already, right? Doc gripped onto his hair, falling onto the floor as his mind argued with itself for the longest minute of his life. He knew his choice.

He'd stay on Hermitcraft. There was no other choice, since most of them seemed to recognize him. 

Doc turned his head around, laughing to himself in minor hysteria. Neither life nor death had been kind to him, it seemed. 

"Doc, you okay?" the voice of the scarred man asked, worried.

"Would you rather what you want to hear or the truth?" Doc chuckled to himself.

The image of Jamaerah's anger shot through his head again and again, and the more he saw the faces of who he would have been almost family with four years ago, he realized that he made the right choice. 

"I get it. I'm Xisuma, by the way. Why don't we come back to my base and have a little... how should I put this? A _talk_?"

Doc's heart pounded in his chest as if trying to break free, and the pit in his stomach somehow managed to deepen itself even further than it was already. 

"Let's go," Xisuma said, beckoning for Doc to follow him. 

Once more, Doc questioned whether he made the right choice, or who would be more merciful.

\---

"Sit," Xisuma said as they stood in a living room high above the jungle. 

The hot air burned Doc's lungs worse than the nether. The nether was dry, but the jungle's humidity made it so much worse than it actually was. It didn't help that he was also sweating from sheer terror as to what was to come. 

Doc did as the admin said, sitting shakily in a cozy armchair. Xisuma sat in a chair opposite him, taking a piece of chocolate and tossing it across the coffee table. 

"Eat it, I can tell you're worried."

Xisuma unwrapped one himself, leaning his head back as he took in the flavor.

"It helps me, anyway," Xisuma said, cupping his hand over his mouth so as to not be rude. 

Doc shifted in his seat, adjusting his collar and refusing to make eye contact, as if by doing so he'd be speaking the truth without words. 

"So, Doc, I need to ask. You died on the way to the portal. How did you get here?" Xisuma asked. 

His voice bore into Doc's soul like knives trying to pry out an answer. 

"I- I think I was just in limbo, that's all. And I just- just found a way out!" Doc said with a forced smile. 

Xisuma pursed his lips, but shrugged it off. 

"Well, then welcome, Doc. The man you saved, Bdubs, split his house in two for some godforsaken reason that I haven't been able to figure out. I'm sure he'd be willing to give you half." 

"Thank you, really, it's been so long since I've felt so... alive..." Doc trailed off. 

He quickly popped the chocolate in his mouth and prepared to head off, but was soon stopped by a tap on his shoulder. Xisuma stood behind him, waving a pair of elytra in front of him with a grin. 

"You'll need that."

"Ah, yes. Thank you," Doc hurried, throwing the wings over his back and jumping off the tower. 

As he glided over the jungle, Doc cussed himself out under his breath. How could he have been so careless, and there was no way someone as intelligent as Xisuma would just believe his story when he sounded so hesitant. But that wasn't the only thing on his mind. He knew the name of the man he couldn't kill: Bdubs. The thought made him smile. 

He hadn't seen a person that he didn't have to take the life from in four long years.

And it felt greater than anything else in the world, great enough to distract him during the long flight to the place in which he'd first arrived.

Waiting for him back on the mushroom island was Bdubs himself, waving him in. The loose ends of his headband danced in the light breeze and filled the pit in Doc's stomach just a bit. He couldn't help but smile as he landed clumsily and looked into the heterochromatic eyes of the man he'd somehow saved. 

"Xisuma shot me a message," Bdubs said, showing off his smartwatch, "I'll show you the way to my house!"

\---

Bdubs and Doc stood at the bottom of the hill at the Bay of Joebraltar, staring up at the split mansion. Doc's eyes were wide with amazement. He'd known servers are different from Earth II, but it was so much more creative and incredible than he'd ever imagined. It was as if gravity didn't exist for what was built, and weight of objects didn't really matter. 

"I live on the right side, you can take the left," Bdubs said, pointing to the different sides of the mansion, "but don't hesitate to stop by if you need anything."

Bdubs climbed up the hill, stopping at the top to wait for his new friend.

The hill was much steeper than Doc expected, making the already exhausted man somehow even more so. 

"Need a hand?" Bdubs called down somewhat tauntingly. 

"Maybe..." Doc grumbled. 

Rushing to the top of the hill, Bdubs offered his hand to the struggling Doc, who hesitated before finally taking it. 

God, how he wanted to disappear just then. He knew that feeling in his chest, the height of embarrassment. How could _he_ need help getting up a hill? 

His mind raced, drowning out any hint of a different reason why his chest felt light. 

After all, he was detached from the living. 

He was a god of death, somewhere between dead and alive, and after what happened with Bdubs' clock, his attachment to even the world of the dead was severed. But with Bdubs, it was as if a rope was being slowly lowered to his mental prison between the worlds. 


	4. Fears

Tick... tock... tick... tock...

Doc shot out of bed in a cold sweat, his face in a panic and whole body trembling. Across the room on a small corner shelf stood a small alarm clock ticking away, a looming sound that sent shivers down Doc's spine. One thing was for sure- he was not about to admit his weakness to the one person he trusted in that place. 

Bdubs had a light and friendly aura about him that no one else he'd seen could match. A soul with a genuine warmth, not one with a hint of fear or distrust like he'd felt from Xisuma, not one of manipulation and greed like with Jamaerah, but of carefree joy. And as Doc sat with his hand clenched over his chest, he thought that maybe, just maybe, that joy would turn their acquaintance to his first real friendship since he died. 

Tick... tock...

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Doc muttered, clamping his palms over his ears. 

His mechanical arm whipped forwards, gripping the clock and throwing it down to the ground with a force he'd rarely used. 

After what happened with Bdubs, he never wanted to hear another clock again. To be reminded of the spiral of time, to remember just what he was: a god of death. And the endless sound of ticking clocks only forced that life onto him further and pulled him deeper and deeper into his reality of limbo. 

That nightmare... it was nothing like anything else he'd dreamt, not even like those he had when he first arrived in Jamaerah's palace. No, it was worse. So much worse. 

He was standing in a tower at the top of a spiral staircase. Ticking came from all around until the sounds meshed together into almost white noise. The walls were covered completely in hundreds of clocks of all different styles, some old, some new, some digital, some not, but the largest was the very floor he stood on. 

The staircase was not a staircase at all, but an infinitely spiraling clock down as far as he could see, and behind him hovered a spectre of black smoke. 

Jamaerah. 

His heart pounding, Doc sprinted down the clock, barely able to keep his balance. Jamaerah's smoke form tagged along closely, and no matter how fast Doc ran, he was never fast enough. 

The smoke wrapped around him like coiling snakes, slithering up his neck, obscuring his vision and senses until all he knew was the constant ticking. A pressure built in his chest as the smoke fell into his lungs until he at last awoke. 

At least the clock was gone.

"Doc?"

He shook his head. There was no way anyone had heard him, was there?

"You okay, man?" Bdubs' voice called as his footsteps climbed up the stairs. 

Doc froze. So, someone had heard... God, he hated himself in that moment. He was Doc, a man who was stronger than his emotions, stronger than fear, and even death itself.

And yet, it was the clock shattered on the floor that broke him. 

"What in the world-" 

"Get out!" Doc snapped. 

He smacked his hand over his mouth, realizing how aggressive it sounded. 

"I- I didn't mean to-"

"I guess I'll leave you be, since you clearly don't need me," Bdubs mumbled. 

His usual aura of joy was shattered like the clock on the floor. Broken, and because of him. Doc smacked himself again, but tagged along by Bdubs' side in protest.

He hadn't realized just how great the height difference was. Doc was a little less than a foot taller than him, at 6'8, but Bdubs still managed to seem stronger than him, at least mentally. That only became clearer as the man made his casual yet somewhat staggered walk towards Doc's front door. 

He couldn't let him leave. Not now, he realized. If there was ever a time he needed to talk to someone, it was now. But at the same time, he'd barely known Bdubs for more than a few hours. Surely he wouldn't want to deal with his troubles. And plus, it wasn't as if he could tell him the truth. 

Without thought, Doc's mechanical arm once again reached out, this time grabbing onto the oversized arm of Bdubs' white sweatshirt. 

"Wh-"

"Can you stay for a bit?" Doc asked. 

Vulnerable, that's how he felt in that moment. He didn't necessarily like it, but at the same time, he didn't feel unsafe as he did with most others. 

"You told me to get out, so I am."

Bdubs' voice was a knife piercing into Doc's guilt, making his emotions bleed out more than they already were. 

"I- I don't like to be alone like I was in Limbo," Doc stuttered. 

"Oh, I see," Bdubs said curtly.

That once-joyous aura still kept its distance. Perhaps it was because he'd shown his anger, his indecisiveness, or perhaps even his sheer strength. A light of warmth flit in and out as Bdubs took a deep breath, though, and it was more than Doc could ask for in that moment.

"I didn't think of you as the emotional type, Doc."

"I'm not. It's just- it's been a while since I've been, well, alive," he explained, "and four years of solitude surrounded by voices and this horrible sound makes you miss seeing actual people."

"Well, why don't you stop by my half? I don't need much sleep anyway," Bdubs said with a grin. 

"Really?"

\---

The two sat on the floor of Bdubs' masterfully designed bedroom, a half-empty can of soda by each of their sides. Bdubs held a small plush goat in his arms, which Doc quickly noticed he squeezed tighter with every phantom's shriek. 

"You will not tell anyone about this, got it?" Bdubs mumbled as he hugged the plush tighter. 

"Something you and I have in common, then," Doc said, looking up to the ceiling. 

"Scared of the night too?"

Doc shook his head. 

"No, both putting on that tough guy act. You saw just earlier that's not exactly true for me..."

Bdubs frowned. 

"What even were you freaking out at?"

Tick... tock....

The cries of fear as the clocks stopped...

The horrid ringing...

"Oh, nothing really," Doc chuckled, "you'd find it stupid anyway."

The baby animals crying over their mother's body....

His own clock frozen in motion...

The man right in front of him who he almost killed...

"You don't know that, just tell me!"

Doc sighed. His fists clenched and his head turned away towards the stairs, the pounding in his heart growing more obvious. 

Tick... tock... tick... tock...

"Clocks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowowowow this one was fun to write.


	5. Past Loves

"Clocks?" Bdubs wondered, "why clocks?"

_Death all around.  
_

_The endless ticking._

_The souls that made up his very arm and face._

"Oh, no reason, I guess. The sound's kind of annoying," Doc said, rubbing the back of his head and grinning, his fangs clearly visible. 

"Yeah, clocks annoy me too. That's why I don't have any in my room."

He was right. As Doc instinctively scanned the room, not a single clock ticked away. Instead, the place was full of a beautiful silence. 

"Doc, I just have to say, you suck at lying."

"What?"

"When you told me why you don't like clocks. Tell me, why are you afraid of clocks?"

Doc desperately tried to deny it, but Bdubs gave him a face that clearly told him to stop. His thoughts raced at a million miles per hour. Bdubs could read him like a book and could tell when he lied, but it wasn't as if he could tell him the truth. If he knew that, he'd ask why he came back, and then he'd be trapped. He'd get kicked out of the one place he'd felt like he truly belonged in four long years. 

Though there were no clocks in the room, in his mind, he could almost hear that awful sound.

_Tick... tock... tick... tock..._

Well... the truth can be stretched, right?

"The first thing I heard when I died was a clock ticking in my hand. It wouldn't move, but it still ticked. Like it was broken. Then this- this god of death or whatever- he got angry. My clock was supposed to have stopped when I died, and so, I was in Limbo. I was stuck in a room all alone, surrounded by the souls of the dead and the endless ticking of my own clock. Four years of that makes you never want to hear that sound ever again," Doc said. 

Outside, he appeared calm and solemn in memory, but in his mind he jumped with joy. It was much smoother of a lie than he thought, and Bdubs took the bait like a fish on the hook. 

"That sounds awful," Bdubs whispered. 

"Well, I'm here now."

Before, the silence was blissful, but right then, it was just like that ticking. Painful. 

"Doc?"

He lifted his head to the sound. 

"Do you need a hug, man?"

That feeling in his chest again. Embarrassment, that's what it had to be. He'd just opened up to the first living person in four years and admitted that he was afraid of something as simple as clocks. How could he not be?

But why would it just start now?

"I mean, if you want one," Bdubs said, hiding his face, "it's how I comfort people."

Doc had fallen so out of touch with emotion that he couldn't even point out anything he felt in that moment other than being grateful to be able to actually talk to someone. 

"A hug would be ni-"

He couldn't even finish his sentence before Bdubs' arms were wrapped around him, his face buried in his shoulder. 

"I figured you'd need one," Bdubs said as he pulled away. 

If the feeling in his chest was strange, the one on his face was so much worse. It was as if it were on fire, and he had no clue what on earth to do about it. 

"If you want, you can just lay on top of me, you seem tired," Doc said with a yawn, "I know I am."

Bdubs hesitated, hiding his face again, but gave in eventually. As soon as he laid his head on Doc's lap, he knocked out for the first good night's sleep in a long time.

\---

Seeing his best friend fast asleep on top of the new stranger was not how Etho expected his morning to go. 

"Bdu-"

Etho was quickly cut off by Doc's death glare, pointing at the sleeping Bdubs. 

"Ah, sorry," Etho whispered, face flushed a deep red, "I'll come back later."

The man's hurried footsteps and the ignition of a rocket signaled Bdubs to sit back up. His face had a grin bigger than he'd worn in ages. 

"Is he gone?" Bdubs whispered. 

Doc nodded, returning the smile.

"But I have to ask, why didn't you want to talk to him?"

Silence filled the room as Bdubs took in a deep breath. 

"He said he likes me and I just- I didn't have the heart to say I didn't feel the same, so I just flew off. He's been trying to get an answer and I just... I can't."

He sighed, looking up to the ceiling as if hoping it would say something. Those few seconds were filled with a solemn air, and yet Bdubs' warm-hearted aura still radiated into Doc's soul. 

"Did you ever love someone, Doc?" Bdubs asked, looking up at him from across the small hallway.

Love... that was a word Doc never dared to use. It was the end of a small needle, a tipping point between pure happiness and a devastating heartbreak. However, he did remember one person. 

He was sixteen at the time, half-asleep behind the counter at his local burger joint as he did every evening from six to nine in the evening. The days would always drag on forever in a blur, but that was quickly changed when a young woman about his age hurried to the counter. She could barely keep her phone in her hand and her backpack hung loosely off one shoulder. Her long brown hair was frizzed beneath her black hoodie. 

"Sorry I'm such a mess, sir, I accidentally slept through last perio- oh, hey, Doc," she stumbled. 

"N- no problem!"

Doc didn't remember much from high school, but Pearl would always stay in his memory. She was an expert sculptor and artist who could turn a thought into something almost as beautiful as her. 

But as with all good things, she was quickly torn away from him. It all happened so fast, to that day Doc could barely believe it. 

They were walking through the city on Christmas Eve after a perfect dinner spent together. The lights twinkled merrily all around, and in the night, they were alone on the cozy downtown street.

At least, that's what they thought.

When they parted ways at their usual intersection, Doc had felt the warmth of pure love. He could almost still feel her even as they walked opposite ways. An evening that couldn't get much better, he told himself. 

That's when he heard the scream. 

He whipped around, whipping his knife from his pocket, but it was too late, and he was much too far. A figure dashed across the street, ignoring Doc's cries of pure rage as he sprinted at full speed to the girl he loved.

That night, the sweet winter's snow became bitter with blood and tears. 

And as he held her close, desperately trying to cover the wound over her chest, he could almost swear there was the faint sound of a slowly ticking clock. 

"Hermitcraft to Doc, do you read me?" Bdubs said, waving his hands in front of a severely spaced out Doc. 

"Oh- yeah. I, well, I guess you could say I loved someone, but it was a long time ago..."

"Do you think you'll love someone again?"

Doc froze. 

"What?"

"I mean, you seemed kind of sad when I asked if you loved someone. So, do you think you'll ever love someone again?"

"I- I guess only time will tell," Doc said with an awkward chuckle.

No matter what his words said, the pounding in his heart spoke louder than anything else. That's when it clicked, what that feeling in his chest was. 

But he wasn't sure if that feeling was something he'd ever want to go through again, based on his luck.

Especially not with the man he almost killed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not crying you are


	6. Water

Rays of golden sunlight beat down onto the hill where the two neighbors previously lay in each others arms. Distant screeches of cicadas filled the warm spring air until their harmonies became deafening against the crashing of the waves. 

To lay by the sea was something Doc had never gotten the chance to do, and when he finally stood up after hours of being close with Bdubs, it was all he could think of. The feeling of the water against his skin, the warmth of the sun, the serenity of it all, it was something that his past four years had ripped away from him. There, water became ice, sun became moon, and peaceful silence warped into the sound of ever-ticking clocks. 

Bdubs had left for a job with what he called "the Boomers", whatever that meant, leaving the tired Doc to himself. 

And that water's call was louder than the cicadas could ever hope to be. 

The waves moved in slow-motion, elegant fountains of water bouncing off the hillside with every crash. Doc's eyes twinkled like the sun reflecting on the millions of droplets dancing through the air. It was finally happening.

Four long years, and his freedom was finally here. 

Four years of clocks, four years of Jamaerah's torture, it all ended here. The sea flowed on its own in constant motion, its temptation smelling of freedom and a nostalgia for a time that never was, a perfect symbol of breaking through.

Beside the cliff-like hill was a more inviting beach, nice and flat compared to the slopes around it even with its slight incline. Boulders stood loomingly on either side, tapering off into smaller and smaller stones until they were pebbles mixed into the fine white sand. 

It was just how Doc imagined it would be. Perhaps not on a beach this small, but it was a beach nonetheless, and he wasn't about to complain about anything in the living world. 

He took a deep breath, letting the salty air fill his desperate lungs before stepping foot into the water. 

The sea stung his skin, invisible needles treating his half submerged body like a pincushion. Doc gasped from the sudden pain, but he didn't care. The longer he stayed, the warmer it would feel. 

His arms outstretched, he pushed himself through the water, moving in harmony with the waves surrounding him. He was one with the sea, one with the flow....

One with freedom. 

And that's all that he could think about.

Gulls cawed into the afternoon sky, their voices echoing off the cliffs of Joebraltar in what felt like near-perfect sync. Doc moved over in the water so that he lay on his back, taking another deep breath as he felt the pull of bliss drag him in. 

It was all too peaceful, too perfect in his damaged eyes. Even the enchanted metal taking over half his body seemed to feel the liberty he had dragged himself back to.

Refreshing, that was the word.

The waves took the ticking straight out of his mind to the point that he almost forgot who he was cursed to be for eternity.

...Almost.

\---

The prickling returned, but it was anything but metaphorical pins striking against his skin. It was cold as ice... and that was exactly what surrounded everywhere Doc touched, crystallizing in every which way with no real pattern. 

" _Scheiße._ "

Just as it had before, water turned to ice from his fiery beating heart. The allure of freedom twisted into bars holding him back from who he so wished to be. 

Even the tears forming in his eyes would soon turn to ice as they fell against the sea. 

_Tick..._

No.

_Tock..._

He would break free.

_Tick... tock..._

Perhaps he would need to step back to go forth.

_Tick..._

Doc shot his arm forward, shattering the ice like glass and freeing him bit by bit. He pushed through over and over, each step bringing him closer to the shore.

_Tock..._

No, he wouldn't let himself be seen like that. There was no way. Xisuma would have him banned, and Jamaerah's wrath sent chills colder than the surrounding ice down his back. 

He pushed and pushed, foot by foot, the ice expanding every time it broke.

_Tick... tock..._

"What the- god damn it!" he bellowed. 

It was too thick to break, and he was too shallow to sink, leaving him glued to the boulders by a wall of frozen ice. 

No, no, no, no, no! Doc's heart and mind were in a battle to who could run the fastest, and it was clear that his mind was winning. It sprinted fast enough that he was deaf to the sound of a panicked someone rushing down the hill. 

"Doc!" Bdubs yelled, clearly in shock from the unreal sight in front of him. 

"How did this even happen?"

Doc didn't answer. The cold was too much.

"Doc, answer me!"

A warm hand on his cheek awoke the hybrid from his stupor.

"B...dubs? Get- get out of here! You can't see this!" Doc scrambled, getting a hold of his voice mid-sentence. 

"What the hell happened?"

Silence.

_Tick, tock, tick, tock..._

"I'll explain later. Just grab my arms and- and pull. I'll try to do the rest."

\---

Doc shivered even as he huddled by a cozy crackling fire. A fluffy blanket with the Boomers' logo had been draped over his shoulders, and Bdubs stood in the kitchen brewing a cup of licorice tea. 

"It was too cold to be out there anyway, I should have known you'd try something like that," Bdubs rambled like an annoyed parent, "but at least you're safe."

Doc nodded. The ice hadn't been mentioned since he broke free. It was as if Bdubs knew, somehow. 

"Isn't there something you wanted to ask?"

Bdubs froze. 

"Well, yes, but you didn't seem like you wanted to explain. I'm assuming it's something from Limbo, like the rest of Death falling off?"

A sigh. Doc closed his eyes, thanking all the gods in the universe, praying that was all that he genuinely believed. 

He was safe... for now. At least until Bdubs returned with the tea, and then he'd get scolded about a thousand times about common sense. Doc chuckled to himself just thinking about it. Even the cage that was the fire's close range felt free. Genuine warmth, not just the break from the cold that his bed in Jamaerah's palace allowed him. 

And it was more than he could ever wish for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this was a fun exercise. This was written after my hiatus :) so my writing I think was better than the previous chapters


	7. Mistake

Stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. That's all that rang through Doc's tired mind as he lay down to sleep that night. Those few hellish hours had felt stretched to the length of years. If Bdubs weren't so oblivious, if he knew the truth about Doc's past... he didn't know what would happen. 

Would he be killed? If so, would his clock finally stop and free him from the hell that was his afterlife? Would he be banned? Sent to another server? Something about the latter almost seemed worse than death, but he couldn't look past the fog of stubbornness to see exactly why. 

He glanced at the shattered remnants of the clock on the floor with a grimace. Being alone at night was not how he wanted to spend that night. No, in fact it almost felt like in front of him was a void where something- or someone- should be as he lay on his side. Shrugging it off, he simply grabbed the second pillow on his queen-sized bed and held it against his chest during the long-awaited drift off into sleep.

_"You've made a mistake larger than you could ever imagine," Jamaerah's voice growled._

_Doc stood in the throne room, a force holding him in place. He was unable to move. Frozen to the floor like he was frozen to the ocean not so long ago._

_A black fog obscured everything above Jamaerah's knees as it always did, only the god's glowing eyes peeking through the never-ending dark._

_"You had a job to do, 77. I trusted you. And now I can see that putting my trust in a semi-mortal like you was a mistake."_

_Jamaerah stood up, his gargantuan foot moving in slow motion, pushing him off the platform of the throne room into the unknown._

_Doc's heart was a bass drum, fast, pounding, and felt throughout his entire body. And yet, as he continued to fall, it did not speed up or even stay the same. Instead, he felt it slow... and slow... until-_

_Thump... thump..._

_Tick... tock..._

_The blackness turned into a nauseating spiral of black and white twisting and turning until infinity. He tried to move through his fear, desperately trying to break his heartbeat from the simultaneous ticking of thousands of unseen clocks._

_And then came the arm. Unraveling and spreading like some horrid parasite, taking over every inch of his body. He shook and screamed, but nothing could break the sound of the clocks and the very beating of his heart._

_Even his heart was not forever._

_Thump... thump...._

_And nothing. Silence, and then-_

_Tick... tock..._

_"You failed, 77. And now you shall tick away in a soul until the day it dies."_

Doc shot up, unable to breathe. 

Silence had never felt so good, and yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that the dream was more than just a nightmare. A warning, perhaps?

Whatever it was, Doc only knew one thing for sure. 

He was not sleeping that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter omg


	8. Obvious

Could he have been any more foolish? And yet, Bdubs stayed silent, completely unbeknownst to the truth that lie beneath Doc's false smile. All the nights waking up screaming, the aura of ice that seemed to radiate from Doc's very being, he never looked at it twice. And Doc couldn't be more thankful. 

Life wasn't ever something that he thought he'd experience again.

Another mistake like that would not be the end of it, that was for sure. Especially not after that dream... 

He could swear that the clock still ticked, even as it lay shattered on his bedroom floor. 

The sunrise that morning was anything but magnificent, but it was the most incredible in Doc's exhausted eyes. A sign of life, a sign that he was no longer alone in that house plagued by the nightmares that had so often destroyed any chance of a good night's rest. As the sun crept above the horizon, Doc already sat outside the half-house fully prepared for the day in his ever-torn labcoat and raggedy jeans that were a mystery as to how they even held themselves together at that point. 

"Doc, what the hell are you doing up so early?" Bdubs asked, hanging out of the window in a fluffy bathrobe. He couldn't tell for sure, but Doc could swear the man's beloved headband tied that robe around his waist. 

"Oh, just got up and couldn't go back to sleep! I might ask the same of you!"

Bdubs scoffed loud enough for Doc to hear on his side of the split property. 

"Well, _I_ wasn't the one awake at three in the morning making a ruckus inside and screaming about clocks! Ha, you sounded ridi-"

He stopped his sentence midway as Doc's usually green skin practically turned white. 

"You okay?"

It was too late. Doc had already returned to his side of the house away from sight. 

He'd been that obvious, huh? Even in his sleep, the secret he held so deep down beneath his soul seeped out beyond his skin. The more he thought about it, the more he realized what was happening. He was cold as ice no matter how long he stood in front of that fireplace, much to the frustration of Bdubs. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that he was unable to hide the chains tying him to the realm of the dead no longer. What would come next... he didn't want to think about that. 

The demons which sat keeled over, their flesh half-rotten and their eyes pits of black smoke, they haunted his memory every single day. Their missions unfinished and Jamaerah's wrath taking its toll on their very being. One thing was for sure; Doc wouldn't become like those... things. They'd been punished by Jamaerah, cursed to a life of pain before being sent down to the worlds only to burn under the sunlight. Doc on the other hand had merely escaped. He was on his own, and it seemed to him that Jamaerah, if anything, was simply watching him suffer with living normally once again. But after he became unentertaining to the god, he didn't know how much longer he'd be able to hide from the inevitable.

He had failed, after all. He'd failed to take a dying soul from a careless error fueled by emotions he had sworn to swallow.

There was only one thing to do at that point. Be less- obvious. 

Step one? Figure out what kept his emotions a mess. 


End file.
